


Flowers Speak

by heinesteiner



Category: DOGS (Manga)
Genre: Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Memories, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1682699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heinesteiner/pseuds/heinesteiner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heine has become a gardener for Lily. The language of flowers has a great effect upon what he grows, always managing to take the meanings of plants into consideration. Sometimes Lily will stop by, talking to the plants and reminding him of what he's lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers Speak

Cyclamen was a pretty enough plant. It wasn’t over-the-top, but came in a variety of colors and still looked elegant. The surrounding bleeding heart flowers were done, receding and waiting to bloom another year. The Cyclamen smiled up at their gardener who watered them, carefully touching the petals with his strong hands. It was their time to bloom, and they did so well, all the colors mingling, except for yellow and striped.

They were supposed to mean good-bye.

In the garden there were tiny plants, Myosotis, of blue, pink, and white shades, but their days were slowly coming to an end. Some had all those colors upon one stem. They never needed much attention, growing everywhere like weeds. But they were pretty and delicate unlike weeds that had to be discarded and destroyed. If the tender looked over them, they spread like wildfire, needing to be moved. It was as they whispered “forget-me-not”.

Keep them in your memory, for that was what they stood for.

Some years there was white heather, or purple. Solitude and wishes will come true. Two things the gardener prayed for every night in the darkness of his mind.

Red eyes watched the Cyclamen. They turned out much better than last year. Perhaps he had grasped tending to plants? It was much harder than people seemed to imagine. The petals were soft and delicate and stems would break if you weren’t gentle. They required being mulched in many ways, watered some or none at all and being grown or planted at the correct time.

But it kept him busy, and it was what Lily wanted. To see the real flowers.

Heine wiped his brow, standing up and brushing the soil from his jeans. The frown that adorned his lips so often settled down again, creating wrinkles by his lips. A vague figure sat, reaching out and whispering to the blossoms. She had a happy smile.

Her words sounded as if she was telling Heine how happy he made her when he saved her. How happy she was to see the real flowers. But they looked so different from how they imagined! Heine was so lucky to be around them all the time. She could only come when he would forget her not.

His memories were so light.

It was not often he would cry, but tears trickled from the corners of his eyes. The man made no effort to wipe them away but watched the pale figure strut around his work, so young and innocent, with a grin on her face. The gun holster bounced at her hip, reminding him what they both were. Tears pooled at his chin, dripping onto his shirt.

She would not notice, because Heine didn’t want her to. Lily was a figment of his imagination. Only he could see her so happy inside his head, projected out of his mind like the spine was every so often. Still he pretended she was a spirit who came back to enjoy the riches of the living world that he would be in for so very, very long.

Those marigolds that would represent his cruelty, grief, and jealousy would bloom another time. Heine didn’t have to remember these things now, but he did. Memories came back to him. It was always a painful reminder of how he is and how he should be. This man was never made to be gentle, but he taught himself and learned to control the monsters inside for Lily.

For he would remember her and love her forever, striving to better himself as she pranced through his pitiful and lonesome garden. The garden a monster created and brewed, somehow managing to please a young girl and make her happy.

Heine tried to reach out to the figure as she neared him, but Lily’s figure faded away and his tears began to flow, choking him up. Fingers rubbed at his eyes as if he was forcing the feelings back inside himself. A memory was all he could ever have, not touch or feeling or joy.

It was as if the flowers whispered “forget-me-not”. 


End file.
